


Rules of Acquisition

by Ruuger



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Season 02, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-27
Updated: 2009-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuger/pseuds/Ruuger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The scantily-clad woman behind the bar leans down, exposing the smooth curve of her breast as she reaches for the empty shot glass, and all John can think of is that he could murder for a good stiff drink."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules of Acquisition

**Author's Note:**

> Set just before "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang" with vague spoilers for "Exit Wounds".

The scantily-clad woman behind the bar leans down, exposing the smooth curve of her breast as she reaches for the empty shot glass, and all John can think of is that he could murder for a good stiff drink.

He gestures for another one and she re-fills the glass, sliding it across the bar to him.

The drink in front of him is the best hypervodka in town (and planet and century), hard and sharp like cut diamonds, but there's still something missing. They just don't make the good stuff anymore.

Except...

(He tries to drown the thought before it finds form, the shot of vodka burning as it goes down, but not enough.)

Except, 'anymore' should have no meaning when you're a time agent. It's supposed to be all in the now, now, now, and the want, take, have. But knowing this doesn't make the drink taste any better, doesn't change the face that looks at him from the mirror in the morning. It's a sobering thought to suddenly realise that after all those years of running, time has finally caught up.

Hence the drinking.

He is reminded of it every time he looks at his hands. The spiderweb of veins and sinew; the way it slightly shakes when his fingers wrap around a gun, a breast, a cock. Good old Lizzie Báthory used to bathe in blood, but John only needs to look at his hands to know that blood doesn't work.

Lost in thought, he flexes his fingers. Wonders if maybe he should start wearing gloves. Another small gesture and another shot of vodka, and then he leans back in his chair to study the crowds, trying to remember if gloves are in fashion on this century. Short skirts certainly are, and he allows himself a moment appreciate the fact.

A man walks by, his leather-clad hand clutching a briefcase, and John is already reaching for his gun before he remembers.

Right. Rehab.

He would say his affirmation, except he must have missed that meeting.

Besides, he has more important things to attend to anyway.

He conjures an image from the projector on his wrist strap, a holographic chart of the relevant time-space coordinates, and compares them to the date one more time. It seems almost serendipitous that of all the times and places in the universe, that is where the rift spat out the canisters. There is an odd feeling, almost like longing, but he ignores it, and concentrates once more on calculating the time and location of the rift. Maybe, if all goes well, he could finally get rid of Gray - put the bastard out of his misery, because the boy was starting to disturb him.

And if nothing else, at least he will have the diamond.


End file.
